


The Peaches Incident

by Soulburnt



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Gen, Light-Hearted, Post 'The Gift', Pre-Series, season six
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26964091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulburnt/pseuds/Soulburnt
Summary: Just how did Angel wind up with the nickname 'Peaches?'
Relationships: Spike & Dawn Summers
Kudos: 11





	The Peaches Incident

Sunnydale

August 2001

***

“And that’s how I got the scar,” Spike said, absently touching his left brow.

“Wow.” Dawn slowed so she could look at the familiar mark, then picked up her pace. She’d spent the afternoon in his crypt before they visited her family’s graves. Over the course of the summer, she learned to go by Buffy’s grave first when Spike went with her. Grieving for Joyce afterwards seemed to make him a little less morose. They were on their way back to Revello Drive, where the Wiccas would invite Spike to go on patrol. Unlike everyone else in her life, she didn’t mind talking to Spike. He had tales to tell from his long existence, tales that didn’t remind her she was stuck in a world where her family was gone.

“Tell me another story from back then.”

“Not too many stories fit for you to hear.”

“I like your stories. I mean, I don’t want to hear stories about Angelus, because yeesh,” she borrowed a word from Willow, “but the rest of them are cool.”

“See, Nib, you calling them cool worries me, and I’m a cold, opportunist killer.”

“No, you’re not,” Dawn said automatically. “I mean, you’re a vampire, but that’s not all you are. You’re still, like, interesting. You do things. All Angelus ever did was stalk and slaughter people. You went to concerts and stuff.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice thick with irony, “that’s the difference between me an’ Peaches. Music appreciation.”

“Why do you call him Peaches?” Dawn asked. “Tell me the story behind that.”

The blond vampire sputtered for a couple of seconds. “Best if I tell you a stalk-and-slaughter story,” he muttered.

Dawn slowed again, giving him a faint smile. “Okay, now I really want to hear it.”

He almost felt his heart lurch in his chest to see Lil Bit’s lips curve even that much. The summer had been hardest on them, he thought, because of all the people who loved Buffy and Joyce, they were the two who had lost their whole world when those lights went out. “You really want to know how Peaches got the name?” He’d promised to help protect her. These days, that consisted of getting her to smile, to eat, to show interest in the outside world.

“Yup.”

“Okay, then.”

***

Milan

March 1889

***

"They grow on trees," Drusilla said. "I've seen them."

"That's nice, love," Spike murmured in response. He tucked closer against her without opening his eyes, nearly asleep in the warmth of the early evening, safe in the family bed, currently located in a purloined apartment.

"I never saw them growing when I was alive, but I liked the way they tasted.” She thought about it for a moment. "Like marmalade kittens."

"Mmm.” The bed swayed, rhythmically if not gently, rocking almost like a boat. Angelus and Darla had watched him with Dru for what seemed like hours, and now Darla was finally letting Angelus have his turn. If he opened his eyes, he would see the other man's broad rear swiveling with effort, so it was just as well he was sleepy. It was still enough to make him move his head from where it rested on Dru's arm, changing the potential view to toes. The older couple had fallen onto the bed so their feet were at the headboard.

"You can just pluck them from the tree."

"Kittens?" His brow furrowed for a moment, trying to follow his lady's monologue, but smoothed out within a couple of seconds. Spike was almost asleep.

"I've had them warm from the sun, fuzzy and juicy.” There was a mesmerized quality to Drusilla's voice, and unlike her child, she was staring fixedly at the coupling going on beside them. "And if the wind blows, they sway on the branch.” She lifted her hand and moved it back and forth, as if in a breeze.

"Mmm.” This was all he could manage now. The conversation wasn't making sense, and Spike wasn't sure if it was because he was already drifting in sleep or because it was Drusilla being her usual self. Later, he never knew if he was actually aware of Drusilla's movement or if his imagination had filled in what happened.

"The fruit is heavy and ready to pluck, to fall…" Drusilla tilted her head and stared with wide, distant eyes at the sway of Angelus' testicles, not yet tight against his body. "Get past the fuzz to taste the juice. It slips over my tongue, drips down my chin.” She didn't go to game face, just put her face close enough to bite down with even teeth on her Daddy's scrotum.

Angelus' roar of agony brought Spike wide awake, sitting up in bed and looking wildly around. His abrupt movement knocked Drusilla over, saving her from a powerful swipe of Angelus' hand. He had jerked forward, deep into Darla and away from the pain. It took the matriarch a moment to recover from her orgasm and realize her mate had rolled to the side, clutching between his legs.

"What happened?" the senior vampire demanded, echoing Spike's thought.

"She bit me!" Angelus ground out, curling into a ball.

"Peaches," Drusilla whispered, firmly in the same reality as everyone else at this moment. "I dreamt they were peaches.” She started to wail.

"Well, they're not fuckin' peaches!"

Darla looked at Angelus, then at Drusilla, who had a tiny bit of blood on her chin. Then her eyes met Spike's, and it struck both of them as funny. Their shock gave way to peals of laughter, full and unexpected.

Angelus groaned. "It's not funny."

It was, though. Spike tried to put an arm around Dru to reassure her, but he could barely do anything other than clutch his stomach. He fell back onto the bed, still chuckling. Drusilla looked down at him and tried a hesitant smile.

"If it isn't too much trouble, Darla," Angelus snapped, still doubled over, "could you stop laughing and heal this up?"

Wiping at the tears of laughter, she hauled her leg from beneath him and put her arm around his middle in a rare hug. "Of course I will," she said soothingly. "I'll heal you right up… Peaches."

This set her off with renewed giggles and removed any possibility of recovery for Spike. Drusilla, wide-eyed and uncertain, made a sincere offer. "I'll make it better, Daddy."

"No!" Angelus scooted a few more inches away from her.

"Yeah," Spike managed, "she might still be hungry for peaches.” This made Darla snort, but she at least had recovered enough to call up her demon features. It took three attempts to close the little wound because she kept lapsing into laughter.

Angelus sat up gingerly, still achy and sore. He gave them all a sour look. "I said, it isn't funny."

"Don't hurt her, Angelus," Darla ordered, though he'd made no move toward Drusilla. She reached over and patted the dark-haired woman on the wrist. "Are your teeth okay? You didn't hurt them on the pit?"

Spike lost control again, and Angelus turned his glare on the boy. "You're supposed to keep her out of trouble."

"I was asleep, mate.” He wiped his eyes. "Just be glad she didn't think they were tennis balls.” He pantomimed a serve.

"What do tennis balls look like?" Drusilla asked in all innocence, sending Darla and Spike into peals of laughter. It didn't take much of a trigger at this point.

"You're all insane," Angelus mumbled, moving carefully to the edge of the bed. He stepped onto the floor and reached for his clothes.

"Darling," Darla cajoled, "come back to bed. It's midday."

"I'll be safer out there," Angelus retorted, taking his clothes and leaving the bedroom.

After the door slammed, the three remaining vampires looked at each other in silence. Then Darla whispered, "Peaches," making Spike, helpless with laughter, slide off his side of the bed with a thump. He lay there wheezing amid the dustbunnies, happier than he had been in years. His pompous, thundering grandsire, brought down by a tiny nip from Drusilla.

***

“… And then it just stuck there, hanging off his fangs, juice dripping all over him.”

Dawn threw Spike a skeptical look. “That’s why you call him Peaches? Because he got his fangs stuck in a can of peaches.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You’re such a bad liar. Angel isn’t like you, Spike. He doesn’t eat people food.”

Spike cast further afield. “Needed them to lure in prey with a free dessert of peach melba?”

“He’d be all like, ‘lacks artistry’ or something. Now cherries jubilee with the flames? I might believe that.”

He caved. “Dru bit him on the balls because they reminded her of peaches.”

Dawn shook her head, her lips twitching. “Now you’re trying way too hard.” She reached out and brushed her fingers against his for a moment. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell my wardens you’ve been telling vampire stories.”

The protest died on his lips as he looked up at the brightly lit windows of the house where Buffy used to live. “Uh, thanks, Bit.” He still felt a little wounded that she hadn’t believed the truth, but he made Dawn smile. These days – day eighty-two since she died – it was everything.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an incident that occurred in my fic 'Life Hard,' wrapped in a very short story of Dawn and Spike supporting each other in their grief after Joyce and Buffy's deaths. There is a flashback to the Whirlwind, who behave as if they aren't on a turn-of-the-century television show but are instead vampires of insatiable and varied appetites.


End file.
